Turk Redemption
by OkashiraShinomori
Summary: In postMeteor Junon, the Turks live peaceful lives. Reno, on a desperate search for a job, manages to get the group reinstated as Turks. They're not the first though...Yeah, that sucked. But you're not here to read summaries, you're here to read storie
1. Chapter 01  Back in Blue

Disclaimer - It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any of it's characters. It, and it's characters, are copywrited by Squaresoft of SquareEnix, whichever applies to FF VII.

_**Chapter 01 – Back in Blue**_

"75, 76, 77, 78, 78'n a half, 79," Elena sighed. "We've got a total of 79 Gil. Where'd it all go?," she shook her head in exasperation. "Reno, do you realize just how much of our money you spend?" The young blonde woman looked over the edge of a stack of books at her companion, and frowning, cleared her throat to get his attention.

"Huh, what?" He looked up from lighting a cigarette, and glanced around him, his red hair swaying. Obviously, he had no idea that his comrade had posed a question to him.

Elena frowned at Reno Sinclair across the living room. He was seated in his beat up recliner, a lamp lit beside him. His blue-green eyes gazed questioningly at her. "The money, Reno. The money situation. We. Need. Money." She frowned to the point of glaring. "And your spending does not help."

The skinny man stuck his hands in the air and attempted an innocent look. "What? It was only a few drinks." His expression changed to a pouty look, and Elena shook her head again.

"Where at?" She almost didn't want to know, but it was necessary.

"Reno's expression dropped, and he fiddled with his lighter, diverting his eyes from Elena's. "Uh…ya know that place over on 5th street?"

Elena's jaw dropped open. "B-but that's one of the most expensive places in Junon! Why the Hell did you have to go over there?" She stood from her wooden desk chair and threw her arms in the air defeatedly. She didn't advance on him, but Reno shrank back into his chair reflexively. "How much did you spend?"

Reno coughed and glanced around, anywhere but at her fiery brown eyes. Finally, he looked at her, and shrugged. "Oh…80 or 90 Gil. Give or take a couple'a tens." Seeing the rage in Elena's eyes, he glanced back down at the lighter in his hands.

Elena's mouth worked for several seconds and she advanced on Reno slowly, coming to a stop in the middle of the room. Eventually, she closed her mouth and slumped onto the couch. Grimacing, Reno moved to sit beside her, and wrapped his right arm around her shoulders, holding her closer. Her body shook slightly with repressed sobs. Attempting to sooth her, Reno commented, "We'll make do somehow. We always do." This elicited no response, and at a loss for what to do next, finally lit his cigarette. He puffed on it a few time, then smashed it into the ashtray on the coffee table in disgust. "God those taste terrible!" He clawed at his tongue dramatically. "Damn, what brand are these?" He pulled the small box from his pants pocket and examined them critically. "Shardyn? What the hell kinda cheap brand is that?" With a snort, he turned and threw the nearly full box into the trashcan behind the couch.

Elena looked up at him wearily, then at the trashcan, then back at Reno. "How much were those cigarettes?"

"7'n a half Gil." Reno waved his hand dismissively as he stood and stretched his lean frame. He began to head off towards the kitchenette, but Elena reached out and gripped his wrist.

"Reno, Reno come back here." She pulled him gently onto the cushion beside her and locked eyes with him. His eyes held a curious look, although the twin scars on his cheeks made it more of an annoyed look somehow. "We need money. In the last two days, that I know of, you've spent better than 100 Gil, and you haven't had a job in the past month. You don't even do your own laundry, for God's sake. We're tired of it." Tears began to well in her eyes again.

He found himself amazed, that she cared so much, but Reno's expression hardened, as well as his voice. "Who's 'we?'"

"Me'n Rude." She sniffled and looked away from Reno. "We…," she halted, holding back a strong surge of emotion. "We've decided that if you don't have a job by the end of the week, you're on you own." She finished in a rush before her emotions could betray her voice.

Reno's eyes grew wide, and he slumped a bit in his seat. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events. No, he was surprised it'd lasted this long. They didn't owe him anything, yet they allowed him to slack off, and do as he wished. Elena cooked for them and did laundry, as well as worked at the nearby grocery. Rude worked for a sales firm, handling phone calls and the occasional house call. Reno's only job had been at the Junon docks hauling fish off of boats, and he'd quit that a bit more than a month ago. He was surprised they didn't eventually drift apart after Meteor fell.

"I'm sorry, Reno," she stated simply, tears rolling down the sides of her face. She buried her face in Reno's shoulder and began to cry softly.

Reno stared down at her. _'How did she ever manage to become a Turk?'_ She had little control over her emotions, and talked way too much. Much as she may have been un-Turk-like, Reno couldn't imagine their group without the bubbly blonde. Reno hugged her tighter and sighed. This was not a position he was very good at. He'd been with a lot of women in his post-slum days, but never for more than a night at a time. He'd never been very close to anyone in his life except his mother and sister. He was always gone the next morning. When it came to this, Reno was rather lost.

As he waited for Elena's usual calm exterior to reassert itself, he turned his attentions to the pressing matter of employment. If he wasn't fast, he'd be sittin' on the street freezin' his ass off by Saturday. He hadn't so much as glanced as the damn want ads lately. _'Shit!'_ With his free hand, he massaged his temples roughly. _'Damn, I'm in trouble.'_ Mentally berating himself, he glanced down at Elena, surprised to see her simply sitting, leaning against his shoulder. Frowning, Reno shook her lightly. "Hey, you okay now?"

Instantly she glanced up at his blue-green eyes, noting a touch of concern, and blushed slightly. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little stressed." She sat up and smoothed her skirt out over her legs. Finding her voice again, she tried a more positive approach. "Today's Tuesday, that's only three more days, but me'n Rude'll help out as much as we can. He was gonna ask his boss today if there were any openings at the office." Narrowing her eyes a bit, she leveled an accusing finger at him. "And no job is beneath you, got that?" Reno shrugged in acceptance, deciding that desperate time call for desperate measures. Seeing his admission, she smiled and glanced about the apartment.

The "living room," if one could term it that, was cluttered mismatched furniture and a few framed photos on the walls. On the only outside wall was a 1'x1' window with a view to brick wall. Near the ceiling, the wallpaper was starting to peel. It certainly wasn't large, but it was immaculately clean thanks to Elena. If it was up to Reno, no doubt the entire room would like the area around his chair: discarded pieces of laundry, empty bottles and cans, magazines, and anything else he was too lazy to move to its rightful place.

The tiny kitchenette's white tile flooring practically gleamed through Elena's hard work, and the small table was cleaned off except for three place-settings for supper. The refrigerator was bare except for a menu of what Elena was making that week, along with a magnetic calendar from Rude's office.

A grin appeared on Reno's face as he surveyed his home, and with a quiet chuckle, rose from the couch and started off for the kitchenette again. This time Elena made no move to stop him. He opened the fridge door and browsed the second shelf for anything interesting to drink, finally settling on a beer. Whistling to himself, he sat the beer at his placemat and closed the door, then pulled his chair from under the table and sat heavily, pulling the newspaper over to him.

With a grimace, he unrolled it and scanned the headlines. "**Turks Massacre 53 People at Junon National Bank! Authorities Estimate 700,000 Gil stolen,**" also, "**37 People Killed in Junon Subway Train Collision.**"

"Damn!" Reno slammed his can onto the table, beer spilling out over his hand and the upper portion of the paper. Elena looked up into the kitchen, startled.

"What? No jobs?" she asked fearfully.

Reno shook his head. "No. Well, I dunno, I haven't checked." He glanced over at her. "The "Turks" have taken a good name and ran it into a pile of shit!" He gestured towards the picture below the article concerning the "Turks."

With a troubled frown, Elena stood and strode quickly into the kitchenette. She'd heard of the new group of terrorists calling themselves the Turks. Everyone had, really. No one had any idea of what they were attempting to accomplish though. Ever since right after Meteor had eliminated Midgar, these Turks had sprung up. At first it had been small stuff, petty theft, vandalism, but it had slowly grown into assault, bombings, big-time theft, and the like. Taking the paper from Reno, she leaned against the table and examined it. After several seconds of silence, she threw the paper down in disgust. "Why the hell are they doing this? They've stolen over what…7 Million, 8 Million Gil, but what are they doing with it? Holding it for spite?

Reno tuned Elena's ramblings out so he could he think. He'd tried it before, but these new Turks brought the idea back to life. There was a possibility that, with a bit of funding, the TRUE Turks could be reborn. Immediately, his thoughts went to money. '_Shit, Elena said we've only got about 80 Gil. That's not enough. How to get some…how to get some…_' He leaned back in his chair and chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully. His only option was theft.

He scowled to himself, despising the idea. '_But hey, it's for the greater good, isn't it? I'll just take…a bit. From someone who's obviously well off. They'll never miss it._' Even with these excuses, Reno could feel a long period of self-loathing coming up. But it really was practically necessary. '_Damn!_' He didn't want to do it, but it was necessary. It was the only way for fast money.

His decision final, he glanced up at Elena, who was still rambling on, and stated in a drawling sort of tone, "Hey, Lena-babe, aren't you gonna be late if you keep on talkin'?"

Elena's eyes widened, and her head snapped around to stare at the clock on the stove's display. "Ah! Crap!" She spun around and dashed into her room, and sped out a moment later with her jacket halfway on. "Bye, Reno." She waved quickly, then yanked the door open, and was gone.

Reno chuckled to himself as he stood and stretched, then walked out of the kitchenette to the small desk Elena had been counting money at. He scooped the bills into his hand and stuffed them into his worn wallet, then dumped the 1 Gil in change into his pants' pocket. On his way to the door, he flipped off the lights, and pulling his coat on, stepped out the door, locking it behind him.

It was a normal, gray, November day. Just cold enough to require a jacket, yet warm enough to be enjoyable. A piercing wind blew down the wide streets, sending small bits of newspaper and assorted other bits of trash on short trips down the road. Reno stood in the partial shelter offered by the inset front door of the apartment and lit a cigarette from a dependable pack. He took a few experimental puffs, then grinned in contentment. Shoving his hands in pockets to keep them warm and to keep the edges of his coat from flapping about, he stepped onto the sidewalk and began walking at a leisurely pace for the largest bank in the general area. The wind picked up, and with a shiver he pulled the jacket tighter around his lean frame. Because of the cold winds blowing in off the harbor, Junon was never hot, but it could get downright cold at almost no notice. This was one of those times. As he trudged along the dimly lit streets, a thin snow began to fall.

Grinning, Reno looked to sky and removed his cigarette. He knew it was childish, but he just had to. Sticking his tongue out, he caught several of the flakes. In Midgar, even as a child, he had been unable to do so for the pollution. After thinking about it for several seconds, he decided that Junon was getting close to that level of pollution. He walked on, enjoying the snow, until he came to the large glass doors of Junon Capitol Savings & Loan. "Here we are…" Grinning, he extinguished his cigarette in a potted plant to the left of the door. He pushed open the double doors and quickly slipped into the warmer atmosphere. He kicked the snow from his shoes and entered the bank-proper.

He gazed cursorily about the cavernous room, trying to find the richest, but least alert civilian there. After passing up a thin young man and four old ladies (they appeared to have guns in their purses) he decided on a suited older man. Glancing at the security guards, he stepped up behind the man and brazenly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Good morning, sir." Reno chirped brightly, cocking his head, causing his fire-red hair to shift wildly.

Turning with surprising swiftness to Reno, the old man smiled at him jovially. "Good morning, young man." He tapped a gold topped cane against the ground and fixed Reno with a questioning gaze. "What can I do for you?"

Thinking quickly, Reno replied without missing a beat, "I was wondering if you'd heard of the latest trouble with the Turks. You know, the bank incident?" He smiled innocently at the old guy.

The older man closed his eyes sorrowfully and shook his head. "Indeed I have. That dishonorable group of worthless louts has run the good name of "Turks" into the ground." Reno flinched inwardly. That was nearly exactly what he had said earlier.

Sliding his fingertips imperceptively into the man's back left pocket, he continued the conversation, "Did you know the Turks, sir?"

He smiled proudly, his eyes lighting up, "Yes indeed. Tseng, leader of the Turks was a good friend of mine. Great man, that he was." His eyes held the far off look of remembrance.

Reno pulled several 50 Gil bills from the man's leather wallet and slid it back, easily, into it's pocket. Daringly, Reno decided to reveal a bit more, "Damn right he was." Reno nodded ferverently.

The old fellow trained a curious eye on him. "You knew him, did you?"

Reno rocked on the balls of his feet, beaming with pride. "Know 'em?" He snorted, "I am one." He extended his hand in a friendly manner to the man. "Reno Sinclair of the Turks, sir. Might I ask your name?"

He didn't respond, but rather muttered Reno's name, as if trying to remember something long forgotten. "Ah yes! I remember now! Dropped the Sector 7 Plate, didn't you?"

Reno's smile dropped. "Yeah. Such were the orders from President Shinra." He paused, "Hey, wait, how did you know about tha…?"

The elderly gentleman smiled that kind smile of his again, "I worked under Reeve in Urban Development. I know you were ordered to do it." He slapped Reno on the back good-naturedly.

"Next!" A coarse voice pierced their reminiscing rather painfully.

The elder man tapped his cane on the floor again. "Excuse me, Mr. Sinclair, it was a pleasure to talk to a true Turk again." As if on sudden inspiration, he tucked his can under one arm and began rummaging through his pockets. He produced a rectangular bit of paper bearing his name, address, phone number, and e-mail address. He pressed the business card into Reno's hand. "There. That's my number and address. If you need anything, just come to me. It's nice to be able to talk to a co-worker again." The teller called out again, her grating voice echoed around the tall room, adding to its irritation factor. Shaking his head, he glanced over his shoulder, then back at Reno. "Got to be going now, good day."

With success firm in pocketed hand, Reno backtracked out the glass door to find that the flurry had not ceased, but rather, the flakes had gotten larger. Eyeing a man across the street, Reno scooped a handful of snow into a tightly packed sphere and hurled it with impeccable aim at the back of the man's neck. His accuracy was unfailing, and the resulting explosion of snow caused the poor target to dance about wildly, trying to prevent the snow from falling into his shirt. Reno waved cheekily at the man and slipped his hands into his coat pockets. He began to stroll further on the street, and his grin widened when the sound of trashcans falling to the ground reached his ears.

He estimated he had about 400 Gil now, and his planned purchases shouldn't amount to more than 350 Gil. He saw no reason not to treat himself to a good lunch before going shopping. He'd heard of a nice little café on 7th, and that seemed to pretty much fit the bill. A Christmas song found its way to his lips, and he marched down the street, in much higher spirits than previously.

Within 20 minutes, he was seated comfortably in a plush leather booth, a cold mug of beer in front of him, a menu propped up beside it. "I'll have a 32oz. New York Strip Steak, well done, fries, and…cottage cheese." He looked up at the young waitress and smiled. "I'd like some ketchup and steak sauce too, please."

"Yes, sir." She removed the vinyl booklet of a menu and made her way back to the kitchens, Reno's eyes on her the whole way.

He noticed an older man watching him out of the corner of his eye, and turned to him. "Hey. Ya think I can order HER?" He bobbed his eyebrows suggestively, causing the old man to choke slightly and return to his salad, shooting occasional glares at the red-head.

Chuckling, he sat back and sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. '_Okay, I've got the basics covered, but I've gotta find a way to get some backing if I'm gonna do this._' He closed his eyes in thought, and suddenly grasped the paper in his pocket. "Yes!" The old man choked on a bit of lettuce, and glared harder at Reno, who paid him no mind. Reno tore the slip of paper from his pocket and examined it closely. '_Alexander Maxwell, eh? Seems pretty rich, likes the Turks…hmmm…_' A smile spread across his face, and all troubles seemed to lift from him. '_Today'll be a good day,_' he decided.

An hour and a half later, Reno trudged through the 3-inch thick layer of snow, keeping an eye out for a respectable boutique. Someplace not too expensive, but high quality. So far he'd passed up three different stores. Stopping in front of several glass doors, Reno decided his search was going to come to an end. He strode quickly into the foyer, and noting brass pegs lining the wall, he hung up his now wet coat. It was a Wutai-style store, and he debated on removing his shoes, finally opting to change into the comfortable, supplied slippers. He stepped up onto the slightly raised floor, gaining some satisfaction in the way the floor-mats sunk slightly under his weight.

Despite holding a lot of Wutai-nese articles, it held many different varieties of clothes. He noted with satisfaction that a corner in the far left was populated solely by suits. Walking slowly, he stood before the distinctly UN-Wutai-nese checkout desk. Surveying the racks upon racks of clothes, and seeing no-one who appeared to be an employee, Reno took to assaulting the small silver bell on the glossy countertop. Almost immediately, a balding head shot up from between two rows of leather coats. Small black eyes glanced about before settling on Reno's scraggly form. Frowning ever-so-slightly, he began to weave his way through the rack of clothes to the front desk. Reno leaned forwards, a look of impatience settling itself onto his face.

"I'm sorry, sir." The employee bowed low, then stood and looked him in the eye appraisingly. "What can I do for you?" It was obvious by his tone and look that he'd come to the conclusion that Reno was hardly worth his time.

"I'd like three dark blue suits, three white dress shirts, three pairs of brown boots, and two black ties." He didn't break eye contact, and a short staring match ensued. Reno won out, and the employee, bowing to the stipulations of his job, motioned for Reno to follow him. With a triumphant grin, Reno rounded the edge of the electronics cluttered desk, following the employee closely. When the duo reached the suits, the balding young man turned to await Reno, and yelped when Reno was right beside him. Reno smiled caustically, "Problem, sir?"

Running a hand over his shiny skull, the man shook his head. "No…no problem." Taking a second to regain his composure, the clerk coughed into his hand. "Now, sir, what sizes would you like?" The title was obviously forced.

"Eh…I'll just try some on. Kay?" Frowning, the clerk motioned to the dressing rooms.

"The men's dressing rooms are over there. Please call me when you've made a decision." He bowed, no as low as before, and hurried off, as if desperate to escape Reno's presence.

With a chuckle, Reno began to peruse the rows of suits, looking for one that looked like it would fit. After several moments and suits, he decided on one, and promptly found matching slacks in drawers beneath the suit rack. Grabbing a randomly sized shirt from a shelf on the wall, he marched into one of the many small cubicles. Minutes later, he stood before a mirror, modeling the suit, and decided it fit right. As was characteristic of him, the top few buttons of the shirt were undone, the jacket not buttoned, and the shirt partially untucked. Satisfied with his appearance, he grinned at his reflection. "That'll work just fine…" He turned around and grabbed up his other clothes into a pile and left the small room, calling in the most annoying voice he could muster for the clerk. Across the store, the balding young man winced, and with a sigh, began to trace the yells.

Coming upon Reno sitting on the floor tying on a pair of brown boots, he clapped one hand over his mouth and sucked in a deep breath. "…Sir! What are you doing!?"

Reno looked up and grunted, as if only now noticing his arrival. "I think I'm gonna go ahead and wear 'em. Izzat okay?"

The man opened and closed his mouth wordlessly, much like a fish. '_Not only is he wearing hose clothes like a…a…ragamuffin, but he hasn't even bought the clothes yet! It's horrible!_' "Eh, yes. Yes, as long as you intend to buy them." The faster he was through with this man, the better. "How will you be paying for this?"

"Cash." It was a simple statement, yet coming from this man, a seemingly penniless man, it seemed profound.

"Cash…alright. Now, if you'll tell me what sizes those suits are, I'll find two more pairs, and you can be on your wa…"

Reno held up his hand to stop the man. "The other two ain't for me." As if that was enough, Reno returned to tying his boots.

Heaving a great sigh, the clerk decided he might as well forget about his lunch break. It was a late one anyway. "What sizes, sir?"

"I dunno." He finished tying his boots, and stood. "One of 'em's about this much taller than me and broad shouldered. The other one's about this tall, and a woman." His hands described them in the air for the clerk, although they didn't help at all.

"Oh dear…" The clerk shook his head and silently asked what he'd done to deserve this.

After an hour and a half of such generalizations, Reno ended up picking two suits from the racks that seemed about the right sizes. Ties were no problem, but the boots were also guesswork. The duo returned to the counter where the Wutaian clerk began to ring up the purchases, ringing one up twice for the one Reno was wearing. Reno went about taking items from his other pants pocket into his slacks.

Grinning somewhat sadistically, the clerk's finger hovered over the "Clear" button, ready to pounce. "That comes to a total of 337 Gil."

With a grunt, Reno pulled his remaining bills from his wallet and laid them on the counter. The clerk's smile fell, and he counted out the change, handing the smaller sum to Reno.

With a brief word of thanks, Reno grabbed up the assorted boxes and marched to the door, grabbing his coat from the wall and stuffing it into one of the larger boxes, he returned to the cold street.

'_I wonder how it went…_' a tall bald man mused as the bus came to a stop before a somewhat rundown apartment building. He stepped off the bus and hopped up onto the curb. He walked briskly to the door to the building and opened it quickly. He wasn't too partial to the cold. He strode silently down the long hallway 'till he came to the door he was looking for. He withdrew his key and stuck it in the door, only to find it wasn't locked.. He stepped inside and sat his briefcase against the wall, then glanced about. His gaze came to rest on one Reno Sinclair, and disappointment weighed heavily on his heart. '_I thought he'd try to change._'

Reno stood up to greet his friend. "Hey, Rude. How'd it go at the office?"

Rude decided Reno was too cheerful for a man told to leave within the week. He began to doubt whether or not Elena had warned the red-head. "Just another day. Did you have any luck finding a job?"

Reno nodded in the positive, and Rude allowed his ever-present sunglasses to slide to the end of his nose, and peered over their top at Reno. "Really? That's good. Where?"

Reno wagged a finger in front of Rude's face. "Uhuh. That's a surprise. You'll have to wait for 'Lena."

Rude raised an eyebrow and pushed his sunglasses back up. "Okay." With that, he turned and retreated to his room, closing his door behind him. '_Where could Reno have gotten a job at? He's too happy for it to be anything difficult, so it's probably not high paying. And what were those boxes on the couch?_' Deciding he'd learn nothing until Elena returned, he put his Turk skills to good use and shoved the entire situation from his mind. He had work to do.

Reno sat down and grinned to himself. He glanced at the TV, and picked up the remote from the coffee table. He flipped it on, and tuned quickly to the local weather.

"We'll be expecting more snow as this cold front continues across the sea. Expect to see totals in excess of 6 inches throughout central Junon, and as much as 12 inches on the outskirts. By Saturday, this warm front will begin to clear out the snow. So if you have kids, let 'em have fun while they can."

"Hey, Rude!" Reno called through the stoic man's door. "We're supposed to have between six inches and a foot of snow!" Reno laughed as he heard the incessant clicking of a laptop keyboard cease. "Sorry." Reno just couldn't understand why the man hated snow.

Still grinning, Reno flipped over to the Chocobo Racing Network, and snuggled down into the couch.

Several hours later, the sound of the door opening awoke Reno with a start. He was awake instantly, a reaction from his past as a Turk. "Good evening, Reno." Elena greeted as she closed the door. "It's really starting to snow out there." She slipped her jacket off and hung it on a peg near the door. She sat her purse on the couch and continued into the kitchenette. Rude came out of his room and greeted Elena, then strode to Reno.

"Well. Elena's back now, Reno."

Reno looked up at Rude, a bit confused. "So?" After a few seconds of being grimly stared at, Reno remembered. "Oh, yes." He cleared his throat. "Hey, 'Lena! C'mere, please."

Elena promptly came back to the living room area and fixed Reno with a curious gaze. "What is it, Reno?"

"I found me a job." He straightened the collar of his sweatshirt in a proud manner.

Elena clapped her hand over her mouth. "You did? That's wonderful, Reno! Where at?"

Reno smiled and spread his arms out for effect. "Anywhere you want!"

Elena's face fell, and Rude's stare hardened. "What do you mean, Reno?"

Without answering, Reno started handing out boxes. Elena opened one of hers and peered inside. Her eyes brightened and she looked back at Reno. "You're going to be a tailor? That's…good, I guess."

Reno shook his head violently. "No, 'Lena. I'm not gonna be a tailor. You can be so blind sometimes." Elena glared at him. "WE'RE gonna be the Turks." He smiled proudly and glanced from Elena to Rude.

Rude, without a word, sat his boxes on the couch, and started to return to his room. "Hey, wait a minute, buddy. Why not?"

Rude stopped and looked over his shoulder at his friend. "We tried that before Reno. No one will hire us. Not after the Shinra. After AVALANCHE came, our record was nothing but a list of losses. No one would fund us to start a security agency either. It just WON'T work. And now there's the negative publicity of the Turk gang."

Apparently having made his point, Rude started back to his room.

Reno glared at his retreating friend, and turned to Elena. "After I show you this, maybe YOU'll be able to convince him." He stuck one hand in his pocket, obviously searching for something.

Elena frowned. "I dunno, Reno. I don't believe we can do it anymore that Rude does. You'd better have something damned powerful up your sleeve."

"Oh, I do, 'Lena, I do." He produced a slightly wrinkled business card from his pocket and handed to Elena. "Read this."

Elena's eyes quickly scanned the page, and she smiled. "Mr. Maxwell! He was my Economics teacher in high school! Didn't he join up with Shinra eventually?"

Reno nodded. "Yup. He was Reeve's lackey. He, I think, will give us everything we need."

Elena's smile fell. "You think?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure he will. He was delighted to talk to me. I'm sure he's got the money to start us off. Can't we see? Please?" He put on his best puppy dog face and clasped his hands. He even went so far as to get down on his knees.

Elena shook her head. "Oh all right. A job's a job, right?" Reno nodded hurriedly. '_I didn't think he'd want to be a Turk again so bad. By the way he acted, it didn't seem to be anything special to him. Who'd've thought._' Brandishing the card, she turned towards Rude's room. "Rude? I think it's worth trying."

"Mr. Maxwell, someone wishes to speak with you." A taught voice broke the elder man's conversation dryly. A young girl within the same room jumped slightly at the interruption.

The aged businessman looked down at the small machine on his expansive desk. "Oh? Who is it?"

There was a pause holding but static. "Reno Sinclair, sir. Claims to be a member of the former Turks." From the background, a voice called "That's not just a claim!"

The old man grinned, and the two people seated before his mahogany desk gasped quietly in surprise. "The Turks? I thought they disbanded, didn't you, Vinnie?"

Maxwell shushed the eighteen year-old with a finger to his smiling lips. "Good, good." He rose and pulled a wooden cane to his grasp. "Escort them to the library immediately." He began towards the door, the shadowed duo close behind him.

"Sir, what shall I do with the others?"

Maxwell stopped abruptly, his brow furrowed in confusion, then lifted in understanding. '_So he's not just here for a nice conversation. Just as I though._' "Them too, Marcus."

"Yes sir." The two figures behind Maxwell looked at each other. The taller shrugged, eliciting a sigh from the girl.

"Here you are, sir." The butler motioned Reno, Rude, and Elena into a high ceilinged room. "Master Maxwell will be with you shortly. Meanwhile, is there anything you would like?" He glanced between the trio, seeming to look over his nose, as if they were hardly worth his time.

Elena shook her head, and Rude remained silent as ever. Only Reno offered a response. "You could get me a beer. In a frosted mug, if one's handy."

Nodding, the tuxedoes man turned and left the room silently. Reno plopped heavily into a padded armchair and rested his feet on the low table in front. "Nice place." The arched ceiling towered overhead at 50-60 feet, giving the room a cavernous feel. The golden candelabras placed strategically along the walls gave the feeling of a vast temple. A wrought iron stairway ran around the room, and up to it's top, giving easy access to any book one wanted. Obviously, this man had money. '_Just what I was hoping,_' Reno nodded to himself in a self-congratulatory manner as he surveyed the expansive library.

Elena stood in the middle of the room, feeling a bit uncomfortable once again in uniform. Her eyes roved the enormous room, and she turned on a heel to marvel at the sheer size. "Ya know, Reno, you may be on to something with Mr. Maxwell." She had fond memories of the man. He had taught high school for many years before moving on to Shinra. There he quickly rose through the ranks. He and Elena had kept in contact for a while, but as their respective jobs became more involved, they fell out of regular communication.

She glanced at the doors impatiently and brushed a lock of golden hair from her face. A single bead of water rolled down her cheek from where the delicate strands of hair had lain. She had showered just before they had left, and now regretted it, especially after discovering that the temperature had dropped further. 28° Fahrenheit was not good for either hair nor health.

Rude stood silently near the entrance. He appeared comfortable in his suit, not that he would let on if he was uncomfortable. Despite knowing him for years, neither of his closest friends could ever guess what he was thinking. Reno pulled a few books from the shelves behind him, glanced at the titles, then sat them on the glass-top table. With a slightly bored expression, he repeated the process until finding something more to his liking. Setting the dislodged books unceremoniously back onto the shelves, he opened a leather-bound copy of "_Watership Down._"

Elena cocked her head in puzzlement. Reno was rarely so quiet. '_He must be more worried about this than he'd like us to believe._' With a small shrug, she sat down in a nearby, overstuffed, wing-backed chair. Elena sunk deeply into the warm fabric, enjoying the simple smell of old paper that emanated from its surface. Several minutes passed in silence except for the turning of pages and the crackling of several hundred candles. Elena felt herself drifting into blissful sleep when the heavy wooden doors eased open slowly, creaking somewhat on their hinges. An elderly man with a cane emerged from the relative brightness of the hall. He was slightly stooped with a age, although he appeared spry enough. His grey, mid-back-length hair hung in a ponytail down his back. He wore a well loved green sweater and black slacks. The butler followed soon after, bearing a silver tray laden with several goblets and a single mug.

"Good evening." The elder gentleman greeted the trio, examining them each individually. He grinned at Elena. "I'd heard you'd made Turk, but I almost didn't believe it of talkative little 'Laney." He laughed to himself and walked to stand in the middle of the room. Elena blushed slightly, but grinned as well. "Please serve our guests, Marcus."

With a bow, Marcus crossed the room and sat the tall mug capped with a thick froth on Reno's table. He handed the goblets of wine to both Elena and Rude, ignoring Elena's quiet protests. Finally he handed one to his employer, and went to stand at the door.

Reno sat his book on the arm of his chair and clasped his mug in both hands. With a gulp, he took several inches off the foam and grinned widely.

With an appreciative nod, Mr. Maxwell lowered himself to a chair. Rude crossed the room silently to stand beside his nominal leader. "Shall we start?" Mr. Maxwell inquired. The three ex-Turks nodded silently, Reno simply signaling from behind his mug. "I can say quite surely that I can fund Turk operations for a minimum of three years."

Rude and Elena both raised an eyebrow in surprise. Elena sipped at her wine thoughtfully, noting that whatever it was, it was an excellent year. "Why would you?" She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

"Good question. For one, I have several…assignments you could start with." He placed suspicious emphasis on "assignments." "I believe that with a proper backer, the Turks could again become a valuable asset to anyone, despite the activity by the so-called "Turks."" His low voice rose slightly in excitement.

Rude listened attentively to the man's choice of words, and paid close attention to his posture. There was no note of falsity to his words, and he seemed open and genuine. '_He was awfully fast to state how long he could fund us. How strange._' He seemed to be skirting around a larger issue, but Rude attributed to simple cautiousness on the older man's part.

"Before you make a decision, however, I must inform you that I have already restarted the Turks, although it is merely a two person operation thus far." Rude's eyebrows furrowed in surprise and curiosity at who the two cold be. "If you do join, you will be working very closely with these tow, but I urge you to give them a chance."

Reno's curiosity was piqued. "Who are they?"

Maxwell tapped his cane against the floor, the soft thump resonating throughout the room. From the nearly closed door came two people in matching blue suits. Well, mostly. The taller of the two had long black hair, held roughly in place by a red bandana. He looked oddly natural in the blue suit. His crimson eyes roved critically over the gathered company, automatically compiling all he knew about them. Beneath the left sleeve of his jacket, a golden claw glinted, it's wicked looking fingers straightened his pant's leg.

The other, a girl of about eighteen, stood somewhat behind the forbidding looking man. Her brown hair rested simply, a bit longer than the Turks had last seen it, nearly reaching her shoulders. Her gray eyes were filled with emotion, a window into her soul. She had forsaken the blue suit-jacket, and wore only the white dress shirt. She shifted back and forth on the carpet, glancing from the back of the taller man's head to the three others in blue. Her form had filled out more, and without the huge shuriken resting in a leather holster, Reno might not have recognized her.

"AVALANCHE." Reno growled distrustfully. He settled further into the chair. Rude shifted in surprise, and Elena gasped softly.

"We're gonna be working with them?" Yuffie Kisaragi and Elena asked in unison. The two glared at each other.

Maxwell chuckled. "If you agree to become Turks again, then yes, you'll be working with them."

Reno glanced at the old man, then back at their former enemies. "What possessed you to hire them, and why are they going under the title "Turks?""

Maxwell opened his mouth to reply, but Vincent Valentine cut in. "Everyone needs to make a living." His low, course voice focused all attention on him. His seemingly heartless eyes locked with each of the Turks' in turn. "In my youth, Mr. Maxwell and myself were good friends. I came to him for advice, and he offered me the position of Turk. Yuffie tagged along with me after we met up in Kalm."

Yuffie stared, open-mouthed, at the normally reticent gunman. "Wow, Vinnie! I think that's the most you've ever volunteered to say at one time!" She clapped him on the back amicably. "Good job!"

"If you join, Mr. Sinclair and Turk Valentine will be co-leaders as you are both experienced at the job. You will need to work together to effectively accomplish your missions. I will assign them and leave the two of you," he glanced from Reno to Vincent pointedly, "to work out the details."

"We have to work with them?" Elena said again, although quieter.

Reno grunted. '_Must be in shock._' He glanced between Vincent and Yuffie, then at Rude, who stared back at him hard, then shrugged.

Elena nodded blankly. "Why not?" She glanced back at the AVALANCHE duo and forced a mile. "That okay with you guys?"

Vincent nodded, while Yuffie held back slightly. "I guess. Just keep Reno away." She glared at Reno who shrugged, a grin spreading across his face.

"What?" He winked suggestively at Yuffie, who promptly made retching noises, then turned back to Alexander Maxwell. With a glance between his fellow Turks, he nodded to the elder man. "We're in."


	2. Chapter 02  Comrades in Arms

_Author's Note: To start off with, there is some definite out of character-ness, but I figured since that would be over soon, I'd throw a bit more in. It just seemed like a good opportunity. I hope everyone is better in their character in this chapter._

_**Chapter 02 – Comrades in Arms**_

Reno kicked the apartment door open and stepped inside. Rude and Elena followed quietly. Without a word, the bald man crossed the blue carpet to the phone on the far wall. With unerring precision, he punched in his boss' number. He wondered briefly how the gruff man would react to his quitting. He quickly dismissed the idea as unimportant.

Reno wandered around the room, stuffing things into a plastic bag he had retrieved from the kitchen. "We have luggage for that, Reno." Elena eyed the red-head exasperatedly.

"Oh well." He bent to retrieve a small stack of magazines from beneath the corner of his chair.

Shaking her head, Elena walked into her bedroom, and after much thumping and banging, drug out several sets of luggage. Rude nodded and hung up the phone, then retrieved his luggage from the pile and retreated to his room, allowing the door to slam closed. Elena slid Reno's across the floor to him, seeing as how he was engaged in retrieving something from beneath the couch. She returned to her room, and closed the door firmly.

She slipped a CD into an old player on her nightstand and pressed play. The quiet piano music flowed through the speakers, and she relaxed somewhat, slipping out of her blue suit jacket and laying it across the bed. Opening her oaken dresser drawers, she began to neatly stack her clothes into the green luggage. Sadly, within a few minutes, the drawers were empty. Sullenly, the Turk began arranging her small collection of stuffed animals atop the clothes. She was surprised she was used to such a small collection of personal items. She had been born into a high class family on the Midgar Upper Plate. For nearly her entire life, she had been denied nothing. She eventually rejected that style of life, opting for the demanding position of Turk. It had been a major success, landing the job. She was the first, and last female Turk. Well, under Shinra, anyway. Even after giving up the life of a rich girl, she'd made more than decent pay. To have so little was a bit shocking.

She closed and latched the top of the piece of luggage and sat back on her heels with a sigh. Now came the fun part. She lay down flat on her stomach and stretched her arm underneath the bed, reaching about blindly. Her fingers touched cool metal, and she groped about for a way to take hold of the object. With a small cry of victory, she pulled on a leather strap that she knew would carry the gun with it. Sure enough, she pulled a leather shoulder holster from beneath the bed, and a pistol within it. Even from beneath the bed, a small layer of dust had begun to collect on the normally glossy surface. Elena pulled a soft cloth from her pocket and wiped it across the surface. She spent several seconds polishing the small material orbs fitted into the barrel, causing each to shine with an inner light. Smiling, she slipped the gun back into its holster and slung it over her shoulder, and with practiced ease, adjusted it to a comfortable fit.

Satisfied, she pulled her jacket back on and picked up the small luggage and grabbed her CD from the player. She regretted not being able to take the player itself, but it was not hers. She snapped the CD into its case and stuck it in a pocket and strolled out her door for a final time.

The first thing she noticed upon entering the living room, was that Reno's corner was relatively clean. He must have stuffed everything that wasn't trash into his luggage. She pulled her luggage over to wear Reno had piled his near the door. Elena turned to dial up her own boss, when she noticed the refrigerator door was open, bathing a small portion of the kitchen in pale yellow light. She strode towards the kitchen, but stopped abruptly as Reno's head popped into view over the top of the fridge door. He had half a sandwich hanging out of his mouth, lettuce drooping from the bread. His arms were laden with numerous brands of beer, and was balancing a bowl of Jell-O precariously on his head. Knowing he couldn't see her, Elena allowed herself a small smile.

Reno backed slowly from the refrigerator, straining not to dump anything. Carefully, he allowed the bottles and cans to roll out onto the small table. He reached up and removed the bowl of Jell-O from his head. As he placed it on the table, half his sandwich plummeted to the floor. "Shit." His voice was slightly muffled, but still audible. He bent to retrieve the fallen food, and smacked his forehead loudly against the table. With a small yelp, he straightened instantly, the rest of the sandwich falling from his mouth. As he raised his hand to his forehead, musical laughter rang through the small kitchenette. He glanced around, and turned red as his blue-green eyes fell on Elena.

She was nearly doubled over with laughter. Somewhere amidst the melodic sound, Reno thought he caught a choppy "I'm sorry, Reno," but he couldn't be sure. Trying to retain some his dignity, he bent under the table, avoiding the edge by as much as he could, and with a small crow of triumph, grabbed his sandwich.

Rude walked out of his room, luggage trailing along behind him, and once again allowed the door to slam shut. Reno jerked up in surprise, and smacked the back of his head against the table. The cans and bottles rolled from the sudden movement of the table, and clattered loudly onto the floor. A small thump told Reno that Elena had collapsed in a fit of laughter. Reno sat heavily on the floor beneath the table and stuffed the sandwich into his mouth. "Thank God we're leaving," he muttered.

The weather lately had been deplorable. First the snow that morning, and as dusk fell, so too did a cutting rain. Thankfully, the limo that Mr. Maxwell had sent for them was well heated. The sleek black vehicle turned a sharp corner, water cascading off the wheels onto a large cardboard box at the edge of the street. Reno barely spared it a glance. After Meteor destroyed most of Midgar, many of the survivors trekked through the plains to Kalm. For months, the small country town had been swamped. Under Reeve's skillful command, the refugees had built onto Kalm, although some of the more adventurous ones had sought a more familiar environment. Many of those from the plate had traveled to Junon. In Kalm, the citizens from the slums faired quite well. The houses they built went up fast and were quite strong. The people from the plate eventually hired the slummers to build their houses. By now, most had nice homes, and who didn't had friends who did. Those who had journeyed on to Junon weren't so lucky. By the time they had arrived at the port town, they hardly resembled the rich businessmen of Midgar's heyday. Those who survived where a scraggly bunch with few resources. They had no real skills, and ended up right where those who they'd pitied most had started at, on the streets, penniless.

Reno, Elena, and Rude had been hired by those from the plate to protect them on their way to Junon. Even the three assassins were unable to fully protect the group from the monsters of the plains. The Midgar Zolom had reduced their numbers by half, before they had managed subdue it. Once they left the Mythril Mines, the journey had been easier, but their charges spirit had been broken. Upon reaching the city, the Turks had quickly abandoned the poor bunch and pooled their money for their apartment. Life since then hadn't been easy, but that was life. You did what you could, and made the best of it.

The limo slowed as it neared the huge structure of Maxwell's dwelling. Reno woke from his reverie. Elena shifted uncomfortably beside him. "We've arrived." The driver exited into the rain, not seeming to notice the temperature of the liquid lances berating him. He opened their door and bowed low. Rude quickly stepped out. Elena moved to follow him, and promptly tripped over a protruding rock in the driveway. She reached out for the driver, but he avoided her and stepped to the side. With a small scream, she hit the gravely pavement.

Reno leapt out of the vehicle and hauled Elena to her feet. She glanced at him, and noted a worried look in his eyes. "Uh…thanks, Reno." He nodded and turned around.

He narrowed his eyes at the impassive chauffer. "Why didn't you help her, you bastard?"

The man stepped back a bit and sneered. "It's not in my job description." His sneer was interrupted by Reno's fist, lodging itself firmly beneath the man's nose. A very satisfying crunch was heard over the sound of the rain. The driver pitched backwards onto the pavement, blood trickling from his mouth. Reno pulled the keys from the ignition and shut the drivers door, slamming the door he'd exited from as well. He stepped around the stunned Elena and unlocked the trunk. With a smile, he tossed the keys onto the unconscious driver's stomach. Reno turned back to the trunk and pulled his luggage free from the stack. He turned towards the wing Maxwell had shown them earlier and began to trot towards it. Rude eyed him curiously over his sunglasses. Reno shrugged. "He deserved it." Rude nodded and pulled his luggage from the back as well.

Elena watched the two retreating men, then sighed, grabbing her own luggage and starting towards the wing that she shared with the AVALANCHE girl. This was turning into one hell of a day.

Reno collapsed into a chair and sighed deeply. His partner wandered into the first bedroom he found, and began unpacking methodically. Reno glanced at the doorway to Rude's room. "You at it already?"

A muffled grunt was his only reply, and with a shrug, Reno craned his head back to examine the room better than he'd been able to during Maxwell's brief tour earlier. His and Rude's wing consisted of some thirty rooms. The main living room appeared to be 60'x60' with nearly a 50' ceiling. A mural was painted on the high ceiling, and several chandeliers hung from thick gold chains. Dark mahogany furniture populated the rooms. On the end opposite the door was a huge entertainment system. Reno turned the chair in the direction of the expansive TV, and turned it on via the remote he picked up from the table to his right. The screen flickered to life, and slow music began to flow from the speakers hung about the room. A paragraph of white text floated across the otherwise black screen. Reno grimaced in disgust. "Who the hell listens to this shit?" He pounded the mute button, and called up the menu immediately after.

A low, cold voice spoke up from the shadows near Reno's chair. "I do."

Reno leapt out of his chair, scrambling around to face the surprise, and drew his gun. "Holy shit!" His presumed target shifted quickly out of line with the barrel.

The shadowy figure nodded. "You are, indeed, still fit for combat, Turk Sinclair." Reno suddenly recognized the low voice. He frowned and stuck his pistol back into it's holster.

"Oh. It's Vampy." Reno sat heavily back into his chair as Vincent lowered himself to a couch perpendicular to Reno. "I take it you live here too?" Vincent remained silent, merely gazing at Reno with his haunting crimson eyes. Reno shuddered. "Still not much of a conversationalist, I see." Vincent shrugged.

With a sigh, Reno returned to choosing another channel. After dismissing three cheap pornos, Reno settled on channel 192, an exposition of the latest weaponry. Approximately a year and a half ago, Reno's old mag rod had finally generated its last volt, and died. They'd not had the money to buy a new one, nor did Reno especially need a new one. What use had a civilian for such a weapon? Reno wasn't the best shot on the planet, and decided that as long as Maxwell was paying, he might as well pick up a new mag rod. So far, the program seemed to be mostly about guns. Reno sighed again and sank deeper into his seat.

Time seemed to pass slowly, and Reno found himself drifting into sleep. Seeing as how it was only ten something, it was hardly the time to be napping. Reno glanced over at the ever silent gunman and decided to try to strike up a conversation. "How'd you and the brat meet up, exactly?"

Vincent looked up and focused on Reno as Rude stepped into the room and took a seat at the other end of Vincent's couch. "I met up with Yuffie at Kalm. She…intervened with a small skirmish I was involved in."

Reno frowned. "Care to try again? I like details in my stories."

Vincent strode into the quiet town, his eyes on the ground, his metal boots clicking against the cobblestone pavement. The town was certainly busier than the last time he'd been there. He attributed that to the influx of Midgar citizens. That was actually the reason he was at the county town. After a year of wandering the world, attempting to make peace with himself, he decided he needed something to give his life purpose. Normal job's didn't suit Vincent, and Vincent wasn't fit for normal jobs. Despite his background in both Shinra and AVALANCHE, most refused him employment. Although he'd not yet stooped to fast-food service.

He was visiting Kalm in search of a friend. He'd met Alexander Maxwell during his prep school days, and the two had become fast friends, despite Vincent's general coldness. The two remained unlikely friends until Vincent decided to join Shinra, much against his parent's wishes, and Alexander decided to become a teacher. He'd not seen the man since joining up with Shinra, and after he was awakened by AVALANCHE, he wasn't exactly able to call up the second highest man in Shinra's Urban Development Department.

It wasn't until now that Vincent considered seeking out his old friend. Not only for employment opportunity, but because he hadn't seen him in thirty years. He hadn't been able to find Alexander in either Gold Saucer or Icicle Inn, so he decided to scour Kalm, the town closest to Midgar. Perhaps he'd settled down there.

Vincent reached the steps that led up the second level of the town, and climbed them quickly. At their top, he scanned the now longer row of bars and inns, searching for the busiest one. The best information was always at a premium at bars. Picking the one nearest him, he pushed through the door into the smoke-filled atmosphere. The smell of alcohol was strong, and smoke nearly caused him to break into a fit of coughing. Glancing through the crowd, he picked out a well dressed gentleman seated on a bar stool. Vincent weaved through the throng of people, his eyes not leaving his target.

Vincent sat lightly on the stool next to the man, flipping his long cloak over his shoulder. He placed both his arms on the bar-top and stared at the man. For several seconds, the two just stared at each other, until the stranger's eyes began to focus on Vincent. "Oh…hello there, shir."

Vincent nodded. "Hello. Can you tell me the whereabouts of Alexander Maxwell?"

"Alegzander Makshwell? That shounds familiar…" His face screwed up in a look of thought, although after several seconds he abandoned it. "Shorry, but I don't recollect the name too well." The drunkard seemed greatly saddened at not being able to help the gunman. "Can I buy ya a drink?" He asked amiably.

Vincent raised his hand and shook his head. "No thank you. Can you point me to anyone that might know of Mr. Maxwell?"

The drunk nodded and, turning on his stool, pointed at a group of people standing in the corner. "They's the Turksh. They kinda run the place. Got even the mayor scared outta his mayor-in'." The group looked up from their conversation to look at the guy with a sour expression. One stood and advanced through the people to stand before the man.

"What're you tellin' this man, Leonard? Nothing bad, surely." Vincent observed the man, and noted that the bulge under his left breast pocket was surely a gun.

The man, presumably Leonard, stood and set his drink on the bar-top. "I've been tellin' him the honesht to God truth. He oughta know 'bout you before he doesh anything." He defiantly crossed his arms over his chest.

The "Turk" turned to Vincent. "Listen now, there ain't no need to listen to this man. He's obviously drunk. You look like a competent guy. How about you come over here and talk to me and my friends?" He pointed over his shoulder at his group, who were watching the trio intently.

Vincent glanced at the drunk, then back at the goon, then back at the drunk. "Thank you for the information, sir." He flipped a coin from his pocket at the man, then stood. Even standing, the goon was still slightly taller than Vincent.

The goon sneered at Leonard, then turned back to his group and motioned for Vincent to follow him. The black cloaked man did so silently, weaving through the people with ease. The taller man sat heavily in his chair, causing it to slide back a bit, and knocked the person behind him. Vincent noticed that the man shrank forward in an effort to make himself invisible. "Stay outta my way!" The goon turned his chair and slapped the man across the back of his head, causing the poor soul to crack his forehead on his beer stein. A small river of blood dribbled into the frothy drink.

The "Turk" smiled at Vincent. "Sometimes ya just gotta knock 'em into order, you know?" He motioned at the seat beside him. "Have a seat."

Vincent frowned, but took the seat without hesitation. "What can you tell me about Alexander Maxwell?" He stared straight at the leader, his piercing gaze keeping the man's attention on him.

Grinning, the man lifted his mug. "Come on now, around here, we put pleasure before business. Have a drink."

"No. Now please answer my question, or I will find someone who can." Vincent's gaze never wavered.

With a frown, the man sat his drink back on the table. "Okay. Fine. Alexander Maxwell used to work with the Shinra. He was here for a little while after Meteor hit, but after a few raids on his house, we managed to drive him outta here." The man's eyes lit up with glee. "His sister didn't make it though. Last I heard, he was in Junon." He smiled in a self-congratulatory manner at the apparently gratifying memory.

Vincent stood. "Thank you. That is all I needed to know. Although now I need to punish you for attacking Mr. Maxwell. He's a good friend of mine." Vincent's low voice was suddenly the only sound in the bar. All eyes were turned towards him.

Shaking his head, the man began to laugh, and was soon followed by his apparent cronies. "'Punish us?' I don't think so. You see, we Turks don't take shit from no-body. 'Specially not some high-and-mighty stranger like yourself." He stood and drew his gun from his pocket. Four of his friends drew similar weapons, and each trained them on the dark gunman. Vincent merely nodded.

"Say "g'night,' Mr. Stranger." The man pulled the trigger, and grinned as the sound reverberated throughout the room. His shiny white teeth were bloodied an instant later as the butt of a gun was slammed into his upper jaw, knocking him against the front wall, sending chairs skittering across the bar. The bar's customers scattered, and within seconds, Vincent was alone in the middle of the room with nine "Turks."

After several seconds of stunned silence, gun's barked their loud retort throughout the room, sending small spheres of leaden death towards their shadowy target. With speed befitting a track-star, Vincent ducked the bullets, and unleashed three of his own, instantly felling the corresponding number of attackers. Not pausing to check his accuracy, he buried his claw in the next man's stomach, feeling flesh tear at the end of the sharp digits. Twisting his hand, he turned the man's stomach into something resembling ground beef, then delivered a kick to the chest that threw the man out of the large picture window near the door.

Instinctively, Vincent dodged a bullet aimed at his head, then spun and fired a shot at his attacker. A loud ping of metal upon metal distracted Vincent momentarily, and his eyes widened as he saw his bullet ricochet off of a humongous shuriken. The large weapon tore through the man's upper torso, and spun back to Vincent's left. He followed it's path with his eyes, and stopped as his gaze centered on a young woman.

"Hey, Vinnie!" She chirped brightly at the foreboding man, sending a wink his way. Vincent was still until a bullet flew past his ear, narrowly missing him. Nodding at the girl, he dropped into a crouch and let loose several rounds at the remaining four goons. Two bullets found their mark and the men pitched backwards onto tables. The ninja girl's bloodied weapon literally disarmed the next unlucky man, and a fountain of blood covered the final attacker. The injured man screamed and held his bloody stump, desperately trying to staunch the flow of blood.

"I don't think so, bub!" The brown-haired ninja leaped forward and caught her weapon. An emerald glow briefly surrounded the girl, then dissipated as lightning blasted through the roof of the building, frying the two men. The smell of cooked flesh filled the bar. A couple of whimpering cries gave evidence to the continued life of several of the attackers.

The ninja girl flipped over a table and landed lightly in front of the gunman, and grinned up at him, her grey eyes flashing happily. With a curt nod at the girl, Vincent began to stonily reload his gun. "Yuffie." To anyone else, it was a mere statement, but Yuffie Kisaragi heard the note of thanks within it.

Yuffie looked around the now shattered bar, and turned back to Vincent. "What got you in such a bad mood?" People began to creep out of corners, as they decided that the fight was definitely over.

"They acted against a friend of mine." With a click, he flipped the barrel of his gun up, apparently finished loading. He slid it with ease into it's holster and strode up to the bartender. Without a word, Vincent pulled several bills from his pocket and laid them on the counter-top.

Yuffie bounced up beside him, and surveyed the damage once again. "Eh…are you sure that'll be enough?" With a shrug, Vincent put down another bill. Yuffie frowned, but said nothing. Vincent spun on his heel and started out the bar, knowing without looking back that Yuffie would be hot on his heels.

"Do you need something, Yuffie?" His low voice floated along the cold night air eerily.

Shivering, Yuffie dashed up to walk beside him. "Not really." Silence reigned for several moments, until she poked him in the arm. "Where're ya goin'?"

"To Junon. I assume you wish to go as well." It wasn't a question. Vincent knew her too well for that.

"You bet!" I haven't done anything interesting lately." She grinned up at Vincent, then wrapped her arms around his arm. "C'mon, hurry. You walk so slowly," she teased the dark-haired man as they strode past the inn at the entrance of Kalm.

Reno sat in rapt silence, staring at the gunslinger. "So…you and the brat aren't involved, right?"

Vincent frowned. "No. Nor will she be with you." Reno held up his hands defensively.

"I wasn't saying I was interested. Just seeing if the stony vampire had warmed up a bit. Or warmed someone else up." He raised his eyebrows suggestively, then sighed as Vincent simply stared stonily at him with those crimson eyes of his. "Never mind." Reno reclined and slipped his hands behind his head and closed his aqua-green eyes. "So…how do you know Mr. Maxwell?"

Reno heard Vincent shift in his seat. "I met Mr. Maxwell when-"

A resounding knock on the door of their wing broke into Vincent's soft voice. Reno didn't stir, and Vincent simply stared at the plush floor. With a heavy sigh, Rude stood and walked to the door. It swung open as he neared it, and a rather normal looking, middle aged butler entered. He wore the typical suit of one of his station, and seemed almost like a carbon copy of the butler they had seen in Maxwell's library previously, except for the warm smile he wore. "Excuse me, sirs. Mr. Maxwell has requested that you meet him in his office for an initial debriefing."

"When?" Reno opened his eyes to look at the man with a critical eye.

"As soon as possible. He asked that I escort you. I am also assigned to be your personal assistants until you know the layout of the manor well enough. If you have any questions, feel free to ask. My name is Jacob." He grinned at each of them, despite not receiving any return. "If you're fit to go, we should leave now."

Reno sighed and stood up, straightening his blue suit importantly. "Sure. Let's go." He strode towards Jacob, who smiled and motioned him out the door. Rude followed quickly, leaving Vincent still in his seat. In complete silence, the gunman stood and exited the room, walking quite leisurely. Jacob bowed slightly as Vincent passed him.

"Nice to see you, brother." Jacob looked up at Vincent, hoping to see some glimmer of friendliness, but received only a curt nod as the caped man passed him. His eyebrow twitched slightly, anger welling in him at being so casually brushed off by his older brother. '_Who does he think he is?_' His lip curled, Jacob closed the door behind the group, and together they walked under the wide eaves to the central part of the manor.

"Here you are, sirs." Jacob opened the door to Maxwell's office, and the three in blue stepped in, instantly noting a difference in the carpeting. It was much softer and thicker here than anywhere else in the manor. "I'll be waiting outside when you're done." He closed the door on them, leaving them stranded in a dark room.

"Well that was smart." Reno remarked as he searched the wall for a light-switch

"Hey! Dammit! Get your hands off of me!" A girl's voice rang through the room, and a smack resounded in the darkness.

"What the hell was that for?" Reno looked at the source of the sound and squinted. As his eyes slowly adjusted, he could make out a small female form. "Ninja girl? The hell you doin' there?"

"I'm waiting. And I DON'T appreciate you grabbing me there." She retorted, raising a hand to shake her index finger in his face.

Vincent's eyes had long ago adjusted to the darkness, and he noted that Yuffie was blushing heavily. Not that he was surprised. Despite all her talk, she seemed rather naïve, although he'd never dream of telling her that to her face. "This room appears to have no light-switch, Turk Sinclair. I suggest you give up looking for one." In the darkness, Vincent's voice was downright spooky.

"How can you tell?" Elena's voice floated through the dark for the first time.

"I can see that there are no switches on the wall, nor a cord on the chandelier."

"Oh." She sounded surprised. Elena leaned back against the bookcase and stared at Maxwell's desk. They hadn't been there much longer than the men, but her eyes were fairly adjusted, yet she couldn't see how Vincent could see for sure that there was no light switch. '_Oh well. It doesn't matter. At least Reno won't be fondling _me'

Reno lapsed into silence, staring at the shadowy form that he was beginning to see was Rude. His drinking buddy had been more silent than usual. For several moments they stood there in comfortable silence, with Reno stirring every now and then.

Elena looks longingly at her two friends, then at Yuffie, and her spirits dropped. Thus far she had had to endure little contact with the peppy ninja, but she knew the time would come that they'd have to associate, and she dreaded it. '_I wonder how Reno and Rude are doing with Valentine._' She pondered, gazing curiously at the ebony-haired man. Out of all of AVALANCHE, he seemed to be the most…bearable. He wasn't loud and annoying, he didn't curse at every opportunity, hell, he hardly spoke, he had once been a Turk, and he wasn't half bad looking, if you could get past his stoic-ness. But Elena dismissed the thought. He wasn't the kind of guy she was after. No, that was someone else….She shook her head, attempting to clear the errant, inappropriate thoughts. It just wouldn't work out…

Across the room, Vincent was also deep in thought. '_What is Jacob doing here? I didn't think he'd survived the raid…_' Vincent's crimson eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to puzzle it out.

His family had been some of the first to invest in the Shinra Corporation in it's infancy, and when the discovery and harnessing of Mako had occurred, the Valentine family suddenly found itself rich. Many of the family's neighbors and friends resented what seemed to them to be a rather unfair card deal. As a result, Vincent's family's country home had been raided by enemies of the family, and was burned to the ground. He had believed that he had been the only survivor, and was carted off to live with his uncle in Junon.

His uncle had been an irrepressible drunk, and had abused Vincent rather regularly. For years, Vincent had had long scars from his Uncle's lash criss-crossing his body. In order to escape his uncle's wrath, Vincent began joining gangs, and soon adopted the cold and stony personality that was now the norm for him. Through these gangs, Vincent experienced his first true feeling of family, as most of his memories of his parents and brother had died under his uncle's ministrations.

It was these gangs that had led to Vincent's joining the Turks. He was caught by the Shinra one day in a raid on a bakery on the plate. He'd been taken to the then small Shinra building, and held captive for nearly 3 days before a man in a blue suit had confronted him. He'd introduced himself as Tseng, a cadet in the special assassination and protection agency called the Turks. He talked quietly with Vincent for several hours in his cell. As it ended up, they had rather a lot in common, and despite himself, Vincent found that he rather liked this Tseng fellow. At the end of the "interrogation," Tseng had offered him his hand to shake, and a job.

Vincent had stared rather dumbly at the raven-haired Wutaian, processing his request. '_Join the Turks? Why me? I'm a nobody._' For several seconds he had stood in silent thought, then, seemingly without reason, hesitantly accepted Tseng's hand. From there, Tseng had personally trained him in the art of the gun, allowed him to room at his apartment until his salary kicked in, and became Vincent's first true friend.

Vincent found himself smiling involuntarily at the memories. The click of a door-knob interrupted his internal musings, and he turned to look at the door as a sliver of light fell across Rude. The sliver of light widened, and Rude stepped back into the darkness as Alexander Maxwell walked into the room.

"Good evening, everybody." He smiled at them, and closed the door, plunging the room back into darkness.

"Dammit, pops, why don't you have any lights in here?" Reno's disembodied voice echoed throughout the room.

"Reno, hush." Elena's soothing voice floated about almost immediately after Reno's outburst.

Maxwell chuckled low in his throat. "That's perfectly okay, Elena. His question is a good one." He grunted slightly as he lowered himself into his creaking chair. A rough scratching sound broke the silence, and light suddenly flared atop Maxwell's desk. His match did little to illuminate the room, but threw fascinating shadows on the walls, and cast such a light on his face so as to make him appear twenty years older than he was. He quickly lit a candle on his right, then one on his left. Warm, gentle light flooded the room as he continued lighting candles. By the time the match had burned down, no less than ten candles burned quietly.

"Sometimes I think humanity relies too much on electricity and machinery. Candle-light was fine for our forefathers, and it's fine for now." He grinned at them. "I'm sorry, but that's just he way I feel about it. Anyway, please have a seat."

Everyone did as ordered, finding the seats to be much more comfortable than the ones they had in their rooms. Reno reclined as far as he could and slipped his hands behind his head contentedly. "You wanted to see us already?" He grunted as Elena elbowed him roughly. He cast her an angry glance and looked back at Maxwell.

"Er…yes. I'd like to go ahead and brief you on your first mission. I'm sorry if it seems too soon, but I need it done immediately." Everyone nodded, giving him unspoken permission to continue.

Their leader nodded in return. "In two days, the five of you will be transported to Kalm. There, I want you to infiltrate the "Turk's" base of operations. They've made their base of operations the Chimera's Paw pub. From there, the Regional Director has been dictating law to the local shops and inns. That includes both my chocobo rental service, and material store. It's been three months since I've received word from either of them. Once you've found the regional director, I'd like you to kill him." He smiled at the assembly before him. "Understood?"

Yuffie's mouth hung open in some amount of shock. He sure didn't seem the type to so casually speak of killing a man. He reminded her of her grandfather, and he sure wasn't the killing type! "You want us to kill him? Isn't that a bit extreme?" Her voice rose with surprise, making her sound younger than her eighteen years.

"Precisely. You can't turn him into the police. They "Turks" run the town," he stated simply, shrugging as if it weren't his problem. "Besides, you don't have any idea what they're like."

"Yeah we do." Yuffie protested. "Me and Vinnie fought some when we were in Kalm, didn't we, Vinnie?" She looked to her dark comrade for support.

Vincent nodded, his ebony hair falling from his shoulder to pool in his blue-suited lap. "Yes. I believe I've already told you what happened, sir."

Maxwell nodded again. "Yes you have. Because of that, they're on a higher alert level than normal. They won't be so lax this time. Last time you caught them off guard and likely drunk."

Yuffie sank deeper into her seat. He had a point…

Rude cleared his throat, and immediately all attention focused on the normally reticent man. "I suggest to avoid confusion that we refer to these False Turks by a different name."

With a nod, Elena seconded the idea, and was quickly followed by the rest of the Turks. "Alright then, Rude. How about simply calling them the FT?" No-one expressed an argument, so Alexander went on. "How you will infiltrate their operation and take them out is up to you, I just want them gone. That's it. Although I'd like you to leave something behind to the effect that the real Turks are back. Perhaps it'll scare them a bit."

"Mr. Maxwell, I'd like to request a replacement for my Mag-rod. It's…less than operational." Reno frowned at the thought of the defunct weapon.

"Already done, Reno. It should be waiting for you in your living room." The room went silent, and no-one ventured any further questions. "Alrighty then. It's settled. You are dismissed."

The Turks rose, and as a group, left the room.

_Author's Note: I'm sorry it was actually shorter than the last chapter! I hadn't intended for that to happen, but it did. The next chapter will be longer, I promise! And the characters will be more in character as well. Again, please review as harshly as you can._


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